"Is it considered a part of Southern hospitality that the host reserves the right to insult his guests?" he asked slowly. Masterson's face flushed with anger at the sweeping suggestion, but McVeigh glanced at him warningly. "This is not a time for useless words, Captain Monroe, and it seems useless to discuss the rights of the hospitality you have outraged." "That is not true, Colonel McVeigh," and his tones were very steady as he made the denial. His very steadiness and cool selfcontrol angered McVeigh, who had hoped to see him astonished, indignant, natural. "Not true?" he demanded. "Is it not true that you were received here as a friend, welcomed as a brother? That you listened this morning when those military dispatches reached me? That you heard me say they were very important? That as soon as they were stolen from my room tonight you announced that you could not prolong your stay, your object in coming having evidently been accomplished? Is it not true that today you managed to divert suspicion from yourself to an innocent lady? The authorities were evidently right who had that sailor followed here; but unknown to her it was not his employer he came here to meet, but _you_, his confederate! He was only the messenger, while you were the real spy--the officer who has broken his parole of honor." Monroe had listened with set teeth to the accusation, a certain doggedness in his expression as the list of his delinquencies were reviewed, but at the final sentence the clenched hand shot forward and he struck McVeigh a wicked blow, staggering him back against the wall. "You are a liar and a fool, Colonel McVeigh," he said in a choked voice, his face white with anger. The Judge and Masterson interposed as McVeigh lunged forward at him, and then he controlled his voice enough to say, "Captain Monroe, you are under arrest." And the commotion and deep breathing of the men prevented them hearing the soft rustle of a woman's dress in the hall as Judithe slipped away into the darkness of the sitting room, and thence up the back stairs. She had followed Monroe as he passed her door. She heard all their words, and the final ones: "_Captain Monroe, you are under arrest!_" rang in her ears all night as she tossed sleepless in the darkness. That is what Kenneth McVeigh would say to her if he knew the truth. Well, he should know it. Captain Monroe was sacrificing himself for her. How she admired him! Did he fancy she would allow it? Yet that shot alarmed her. She heard them say Pierson had escaped, but had he retained the papers? If she was quite sure of _that_ she would announce the truth at once and clear him. But the morning was so near. She must wait a few hours longer, and then--then Kenneth McVeigh would say to her, "_You are under arrest_," and after all her success would come defeat.